


Buttercream Kisses

by ultimaticity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Baker Derek, Bakery AU, Fluff, I had a craving for cupcakes after I finished this, Lacrosse Player Stiles Stilinski, M/M, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3644025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultimaticity/pseuds/ultimaticity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a lacrosse player who needs to keep his energy up (and has a sweet tooth that needs to be satisfied), Stiles always goes to McCall's Cake Shop after practice for his daily sugar rush. Derek Hale, the new statue-like employee and baking genius, definitely leaves him seeking a bit more sweetness in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buttercream Kisses

The last of the late afternoon crowd that had wandered its way into _McCall's Cake Shop_ , having been enticed by the sugary-sweet scent that wafted through the air outside and reached down to the end of the block, slowly trickled out of the shop with quiet chatter. It was almost a typical scene for the early evening, with Melissa and the employees picking up small plates embellished with cake crumbs and buttercream frosting smears and mugs that held either coffee or the signature hot chocolate while the Northern California setting sun shines through the glass door and the windows. 

The rumbling sound of a certain Jeep's engine pulling into the parking lot brought the picture to completion. It is only several moments later after the sound stops when Stiles Stilinski rushes in without a care in the world, making the silver bell above the door ring the loudest that it had all day with the force that he opens the door. Dirt and grass stains the uniform that he's wearing, and sweat clings to what is visible of his skin. He throws his lacrosse bag under the coat rack, and doesn't even think twice about the unfamiliar black leather jacket that hangs on it, shiny aviators tucked into the front pocket.

"You'd better not be tracking dirt all over my floor, young man," Melissa warns from the kitchen. When she walks out, she's wiping her flour-y hands with a towel with a motherly glint in her eyes. "I wouldn't want to have to pay you for mopping it up. And I know that you'd do such a meticulous job of it that I'd be forced to do so."

Stiles grins cheekily, hopping onto one of the colorful stools in front of the bar. "Wouldn't ever think of it, Ms. McCall. Although, as a nearly-broke college student, I could use the extra cash." He flushes a little when she picks a few pieces of grass from his hair, which he had been neglecting to get cut lately with all the rigamarole of school mixed with lacrosse. "So, what do you have for me today?"

Not even a couple seconds after the question falls from Stiles' lips, Melissa, like his own personal fairy godmother, places a plate of Heaven in front of him. His mouth waters at the sugary sight, and can barely process that she is speaking to him. "It's a vanilla cupcake with Bavarian cream filling and fudge icing on top, complete with mocha sprinkles. I was blessed with this new concoction this morning."

"Oh, Christ. You and me both," Stiles mumbles, and barely has time to get the words out before he shoves the cupcake into his mouth. His eyes practically roll back into his head when his taste buds register the divine taste, and his groans get muffled as he chews. "Ms. McCall, how many times have I told you that you are the _goddess_ of baking?"

She muses on this while grabbing a rag, and starts to clean the bar with a smile. "Actually, I think that this is the first time that you have. Sadly, though, I can't take the title. I didn't make it."

At those words, Stiles' eyebrows go up so high that they reach the middle of his forehead at the very least. "Then _who did_? Because I sure as Hell want to start worshipping the ground that this magical person walks on." He says the second sentence through another mouthful of cupcake, frosting smudging his upper lip.

"It was a new hire that started this morning, actually."

Stiles' eyes grow wide. "You're kidding."

"Definitely not! I'll go grab him."

When Melissa disappears from view, ideas start bouncing around in Stiles' head about what would be the best way to convince this brilliant being to live in his apartment with him so that he could never be left without the holiness that he has already almost completely devoured. Of course, they would have to deal with living off of ramen and various TV dinners, because hey, college life wasn't exactly luxurious. At least all of the actual real ingredients would balance the processed stuff out. Perhaps. That was a thing, right?

"Alright, Stiles!" Melissa calls out after several seconds of murmuring from the back room, as if she had been forced to coax the new employee out to be social. She, with a proud expression, pulls in a gloomy-looking person as she enters Stiles' line of sight again, and Stiles' mouth, half-full of cupcake, hangs open the tiniest bit. "This is Derek Hale, the new mastermind of this bakery."

And Stiles can barely hold back his "Oh, God" because _God_ , he is pretty sure some sort of god is currently standing right in front of him. Derek is dressed in all black, a contrast with the colorful setup of the shop, but it is a difference that is certainly welcomed because of how his charcoal t-shirt clings to his biceps. His face, even though it consists of a sulk, is probably the most absolutely-freaking- _gorgeous_ thing that Stiles has ever seen in his entire lifetime, and those eyes, _Jesus_ , those eyes, are a shade of green that basically turns blue as he looks around and tries to avoid Stiles' awed gaze.

"Hey," Derek manages to mumble half-heartedly, and Stiles has to take a deep breath because his voice is as velvety-smooth as the frosting on the cupcake that he has just eaten.

Stiles doesn't realize that a couple moments have passed before Ms. McCall clears her throat, and he jumps in his seat before scratching his neck awkwardly. He squeaks out, "Oh, y-yeah, h-hi! I'm Stiles, by the way, just in case you were wondering. You don't exactly seem like you were, considering she had to drag you out here, but you know, I'm always open to making new acquaintances--" He suddenly catches his reflection in a napkin dispenser, and his pink cheeks flush into a deep wine red when he sees the dirt still smeared on his forehead and a trail of crumbs adhered to white icing at the corner of his mouth. Horror washes through his body, and he could swear that he goes numb for an instant. He wipes these things away subtly, fixing his hair by using his fingers as a comb. "--yeah. College student, first-line of my college's lacrosse team, and I don't know why I'm saying all this, so I'll shut up now."

"He's my number-one-trusted taste-tester as well," Melissa jumps in, and Derek nods imperceptibly. "So with whatever ingenious creations you come up with, he will be the first one to try them."

"So," Derek starts, face unreadable. Stiles takes the chance as he pauses to admire how his features look like they've been carved out of marble. "He's my guinea pig?"

"Eh, I don't like being called that," Stiles interjects, and is momentarily distracted by Derek's facial structure before he speaks again. "Normally, being objectified is my pet peeve, but being animalized comes in as a close second. But hey, if you're into that: honestly, you seem like the wolf that might rip my face off if I just try to critique your baking skills."

When all that Derek responds with is a "hm", his eyes finally training on Stiles', Stiles takes that as his cue to leave. Even though Derek _freaking_ Hale was looking straight at him, his eyes were narrowed to form a glare; it sent shudders down Stiles' back because of how frighteningly gorgeous it looks on him.

He pats at his mouth with a pink napkin and places it on his plate with a smile, forcing himself to tear his stare from Derek's absolutely beautiful and _brooding_ one as he starts toward the door. "I just realized that I have a Physics essay due in a couple of days--definitely s-something that needs to be worked on--so I should, um, really get started on that. Uh, thanks for the cupcake, Melissa, D-Derek, I'll see you--" He almost knocks down the coat rack when he swings his lacrosse bag over his shoulder, and has to catch it with clammy hands before setting it steadily back on the floor. His cheeks burn because he can still feel Derek's eyes making holes in his back. "S-See you tomorrow!"

But even in his embarrassment, he glances over his shoulder one last time before stepping out of the shop, and can almost swear that one corner of Derek's mouth twitches up into a quarter-smile. And that's enough to make him burst into grin and whistle some random tune on the drive to his apartment.

Inside of the bakery, Melissa tosses a mischievous smile at Derek as she straightens up chairs that have been angled and moved around throughout the day. "Charming, isn't he?"

Derek just grunts in reply, but when he turns his back to her, his mouth turns up the tiniest bit once more.

***

The next afternoon, Stiles sees what he looks like in one of the windows of the cake shop before he makes his way inside, and curses aloud. Somehow, even though there are slightly dark bags under his eyes and his body feels a little like lead after practice, he can still manage to look overeager. His eyes are excited and bright, and his face is slightly flushed; the coloring is definitely _not_ from lacrosse, and he almost hates himself as he admits that in his head.

He takes it upon himself to brush off his uniform and stomp his cleats on the sidewalk to get rid of as much of the results of lacrosse as he can before sighing and running his fingers through his hair to make sure that no bits of grass or dirt is hidden in it. Looking at his reflection once more, he decides that he is definitely more decent than before and allows himself to enter the shop, taking special care to attempt to not turn into a pile of thrashing limbs.

Nodding at some of the regulars that he recognizes as he walks towards the bar, he jumps up onto his usual stool and waits with a pounding heart in anticipation of what awaited him. Hopefully, it was both a magnificent cupcake and Derek The Dreamy Baker, but he wasn't known for having the best of luck in his aspirations, let alone capable of carving a path in endeavors of love.

"You just met the guy, and he doesn't seem too keen on making friends!" he hisses to himself. "Don't be an idiot, _idiot_!"

"Who's the idiot?"

Stiles is at a loss for words as Derek appears in front of him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish's that was out of the water. He struggles for words as Derek turns to grab a fresh plate, eyes indecipherable when he's able to meet them again. "Oh--ah, me." He doesn't get to see Derek's expression as he ducks down behind a display of cupcakes, so he bangs his forehead on the counter a couple of times while questioning how he was capable of being such a moron. When he looks up again. Derek is placing a cupcake in front of him. A little bit of emotion has waded its way into his face, and he actually looks _eager_. Stiles sighs and continues, "Obviously. What do you have for me, big guy?"

"Something that hasn't been produced in this shop until today," There's a hint of proudness in Derek's voice, and his eyes have this certain glint to them that gets rid of at least half of the sulkiness. "Underneath, it's just plain old white chocolate cake. But on top, that's _rose buttercream_."

Derek looks so pleased with himself as he says the last two words that Stiles can't stop the warmth that suddenly rushes through his veins. Even though he had just met him, Stiles hadn't thought at all that he would get an ounce of passion from him.

He cocks his head. "Rose, huh? As in, the _flower_?"

"Exactly."

"It's a good thing that I have a good gag reflex, then."

Derek snorts. "That's only something that your significant other needs to know." Stiles quickly turns a bright red at his statement, and he doesn't know if he imagines the quick flash of amusement on Derek's face or not. "Forgetting that, I guarantee that this cupcake will be one of the most delicious things you have ever tasted."

"Cocky, aren't we?" Stiles breathes, holding back from rolling his eyes. Sure, Derek may be the most gorgeous baker on the planet Earth, but arrogance was definitely a turn-off for him--not that that stopped him from holding his green stare as he brought the cake to his mouth. 

The look that Derek is giving him is intense, and he cant tell if it is either a _If-you-don't-like-this-I-might-throw-you-out-the-window_ look or a _Please-hurry-up-because-the-suspense-is-killing-me_ look. It is most likely a mixture of the two, and Stiles can't tell if he is scared or attracted to this certain stare.

When he opens his mouth to take a tentative bite of the cupcake, Derek's hands visibly clench as they clutch the bar. Stiles feels self-conscious as he notices this, but he closes his eyes and accepts the cake between his lips. His eyes fly open as the most perfect balance of floral and sugary sweetness overwhelms him, and he sees that Derek is on the brink of either doing a happy dance or falling to the floor with the weight of failure on his shoulders.

"Well?"

Stiles wants to savor the cupcake and chew slowly, but he swallows it quickly because Derek looks like he's about to break. "Oh, my God."

"What?" Derek seems too frantic to be annoyed. "What does that mean? Is that a good ' _Oh, my God_ ' or a bad ' _Oh, my God_ '?"

"It means, oh, my God, this is freaking _pristine_!" Stiles nearly shouts, not even caring that he spits crumbs onto the counter. Apparently, Derek doesn't care either, as he breaks into a genuine, gorgeous grin. Stiles' breath catches at the sight, and for some reason, he feels like his irregular heartbeat is pounding loudly enough that the whole shop can hear it. "I'm so, _so_ sorry that I ever doubted you. Could you _ever_ forgive me for my sin?"

Stiles' heart flutters as Derek smirks. He's not at all prepared when the baker gently takes hold of his wrist, the same sly smile still plastered on his face.

"It's plausible," Derek responds to the question before guiding Stiles' hand towards him. He takes a bite of the sublime morsel that Stiles is holding in his hand, right over where Stiles had already bitten it, and chews thoughtfully while the college student is feeling he's going to melt because of how many degrees his body temperature has risen. "Hm. This would be excellent for a wedding cake, don't you agree?"

Derek licks stray icing from the corner of his mouth an instant after he asks the question, and Stiles loses the ability to be able to form a coherent answer for a couple of seconds. "I-I agree, and was totally just thinking that, too. I mean, why wouldn't I?"

"Just checking to see if my guinea pig and I have the same mindset."

"I don't think that's possible," Stiles replies, speaking his next sentence with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "Considering you're a genius and all."

A low chuckle escapes from Derek as he reaches over and, with a quick movement of his fingers, steals another piece of the cupcake. "And a genius should be able to enjoy his own handiwork every once in a while."

And just like that, the playful baker is gone and in his place is the sulking face that Stiles had met the day before. Derek turns away to go back into the kitchen, and throws a flippant "See you tomorrow, Stiles" over his shoulder before disappearing completely, leaving Stiles flustered and joyous inside of the almost-empty shop.

"Wait!" The exclamation is out of Stiles' mouth before he can stop it, and he is surprised when Derek backtracks in his steps and becomes visible again, eyebrows raised. "Uh...yeah. See you tomorrow."

He savors the trace of a smile that he receives in return.

***

After a week of cupcake-y goodness and trying not to stare at Derek's biceps (at least, not for too long) when Stiles decides that he is fed up with small talk that happens in his visits that are usually a maximum of ten minutes. When he walks into the bakery that afternoon, he's determined to make actual conversation that doesn't end abruptly in sarcasm or Derek just leaving him at the counter.

"When did you start?" The question is asked through a delicious mouthful of lemon cake and raspberry icing as he watches Derek clean the counter in front of him. 

When he looks up, Derek's face is a picture of confusion; a very pretty one, Stiles might add. "Start what?"

"Stripping for tips. I've heard you've been making a great income," Stiles deadpans, and Derek's eyebrows scrunch together. 

"Excuse me?"

Stiles gestures to the cake that he is holding and to the palatable-looking batches of different flavors and icings just waiting to be eaten inside of the glass displays. "Baking, of course!" He licks some frosting off of his fingers in order to emphasize his next words. "I'm sure this sort of brilliance doesn't happen overnight."

Derek looks genuinely surprised at Stiles' interest, as if nobody had given him a second glance before, and there's a hint of flattery in his eyes. He muses on the question for several moments, his cleaning slowing as he thinks. "...It started off as a distraction, I guess." He throws the cloth that he was wiping down the counter with over his shoulder, and leans against the bar. "I don't know. Figuring out the correct measurements of ingredients to make the perfect cake or cookie and putting my own twist on classics, it made me forget about certain stuff that happened in my past."

"But it turned into something else," Stiles guesses quickly when Derek's voice breaks a little. The shattering at the edges is something he instantly knows he never wanted to hear again. Derek nods once, and takes a deep breath. There is a touch of confusion in his face, like he doesn't know why he's telling Stiles all of this.

"I soon realized that I could make other people happy, y'know? Even though it might just be a macaroon or a cake that I give someone, it makes them smile. And, after the longest time, it started to make me happy, too. I used to think what I did was so simple, so _forgettable_ , but after seeing people come back and thanking me, I started to work even harder."

Stiles is taken aback at the glow of fervor that soon embodies Derek and grins, gesturing around him. "And now, you're here."

"Yeah," The sound of Derek's chuckle is like music to Stiles' ears. Derek is now wearing a wide smile that mirrors his own, all gloominess having disappeared from his face. They're both leaning closer towards each other now, but neither one of them notices. "Yeah, I am. Honestly, there's no other place that I would rather be."

"Dude, you could probably be in _New York_ , maybe even _Paris_ , being a master of baking and being glorified for what you make!" Stiles pounds the bar with a determined fist as he says this. Amusement makes its way into Derek's expression, and he shakes his head. "I'm being serious! You could be so successful somewhere else, so why do you choose to stay in this small town?"

Derek ponders what Stiles is asking of him, slowly coming to an explanation as he draws random shapes into the counter with his finger. "I mean, I was raised here, and sentiment is much more important to me than popularity. I don't like chaos. I like quiet. All of the huge cities are annoying and loud--you would fit right in there." Stiles' expression is skeptical when he says this, eyebrows up as if to say, _Really?_ , and he chuckles. "Plus, in a big city, I wouldn't be able to recognize faces like I do in this bakery. I wouldn't get the respect that I receive." He outstretches his arms and looks around the shop proudly. "Here, it's like a haven for me. It's not ever too busy, everybody is calm, and I'm allowed to put as much time as I can into what I create. Glory doesn't matter to me, because baking..."

"Is your passion," Stiles finishes for him, fully understanding his reasoning.

"Absolutely," Derek responds. He puts his elbows on the bar and rests his chin in his hands. "Just like lacrosse is yours, right? Lacrosse is your passion?"

"Without a doubt," Stiles laughs after he says those words, and the warm sound fills the bakery from wall to wall. "But man, was I horrible when I first started out."

Derek actually looks interested, and there's a twinkle in his eye. "Oh, really?"

"I'm not kidding. I just started playing with Scott, my best friend and Melissa's son, and we eventually tried out for the lacrosse team in high school. Sure, I made the team, but it was rare that I got to play because I was so _bad_." Stiles sighs as all the memories of watching from the bench flood his mind, watching as his team claimed victory without him.

"Well, everybody gets better at something they keep at, don't they?" Derek asks, and shrugs. "Hell, I burnt the first cake that I ever attempted to make. I swear, I threw the damned thing out the window."

Stiles guffaws at the confession for a good couple of seconds before simmering down. "I _did_ get better. By dumb luck, I got chosen to play first line. At first, I didn't play very well. Like, at all. And then suddenly, I'm scoring goals left and right and I'm actually getting _respected_. I start to play so well that even _I'm_ surprised at myself." He shakes his head like he's still in disbelief of the whole situation. "And now, I'm one of the "most valuable recruits" for the major league, according to whispers from ESPN."

"That's _amazing_ ," Derek's voice is genuine when he says that, and Stiles flushes because of how proud he is of himself and because he can't believe he's the one who got Derek Hale to show some ardor. To _him_ , of all people! It's hard to wrap his head around that he's actually more than just a guinea pig to him now.

"I guess so..." 

Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles' bashfulness. "You're too modest, Stilinski." Stiles' last name comes out of his mouth like he's said it a million times before, like they've been good friends for months and not just a week. Their shocked looks are mirror images for a moment until Stiles puts on a blank face that reads, _even though it's hard to, I'm going to forget that that just happened_. Derek clears his throat and continues, trying his best not to skip any beats. "You're considering it, correct? Going pro?"

"Of course," Stiles says without a moment of hesitation, but then shrugs. "But, I'm not sure. There's a lot of pressure in the majors, and I'm also considering staying here." He leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest as he speaks, eyebrows furrowed together. "Maybe coach here instead of play and train aspiring players. Like what you said, I don't need glory or fame in order to be happy. This town--I don't know if I'd be able to leave it."

"Well," Derek takes Stiles' plate away, and sets it inside of the sink to be cleaned at a later time. A ghost of a smile is visible on his face. "I'm sure that a lot of people here would miss you if you left."

Even though Derek says that in a nonchalant tone, there's something about those words that make Stiles' heart rate skyrocket. There isn't any visible subtext in Derek's body language, but Stiles has a jittery feeling inside of his stomach until Melissa's voice echoes through the now-empty shop. Stiles is shocked when he turns around to see that he's the only non-employee left.

" _Derek_!" Ms. McCall appears abruptly, and her expression becomes inquisitive when she sees Stiles still sitting at the bar, giving her a grin and a cheeky wave. She looks back and forth between the two men, biting her lip to hide her satisfactory smile. "I didn't expect you to still be here, Stiles."

"Uh..." Stiles can't rack up a good explanation in his head, so Derek takes the reigns from him. _How intelligent of you_ , he tells himself.

"Just lost track of time," Derek's mirth is now pretty much gone, and he is back to the marble statue that he was before. The spark that had been in his eyes has already disappeared. "Am I needed?"

"Yes. I'd hate to keep you here late, but I just got a rush order on two cakes. The customer specifically requested that you do the job."

Stiles smirks and sings out, "I can smell a rivalry!"

"Not at all," Melissa taps the counter, grabbing his attention before pointing at him. "I can respect when I know I can't compete with magnificence. Keep that in mind at your next game, hm?"

A smile plays at the corners of Derek's mouth at the mother-and-son-like bickering going on in front of him. "I'll be right there, Ms. McCall."

Melissa nods and glares at Stiles, who puts his hands up in surrender until Derek turns around. She then gives him a quick wink when Derek's not able to see her anymore, and he has to suppress his groan of embarrassment as she leaves. Stiles can only begin recounting all of the times she has played matchmaker inside of the shop.

"I guess that I'll leave you to it," he announces, getting off of his stool. He has to stretch because of how stiff he is when he does. After gathering up his lacrosse equipment, he starts to head towards the door, footsteps dragging on the tile because honestly, he doesn't want to leave.

"Stiles?" Derek tentatively calling his name makes him spin around in hope. The baker looks impassive, but there's a certain tension at the edges of his voice that Stiles can't place. "I've been meaning to ask you--what's your favorite flower?"

The first six words has Stiles almost breathless with anticipation, but then he is forced to mask his disappointment with a devil-may-care smile that's tinged with confusion at the question. "What? We have our first long conversation and you think that you can play twenty questions with me?"

Derek shakes his head. "It's just a question, Stiles."

Stiles thinks about it for several moments, pursing his lips. "Violets," he answers decidedly, still a bit bewildered by the inquiry.

It looks like a lightbulb flicks on above Derek's head at his answer, but he masks it right away and just nods, barely glancing back at him as he turns to follow Melissa into the kitchen. "Thanks."

Left in the middle of the shop, puzzled, but happy, Stiles watches Derek as he leaves. Needless to say, he appreciates the view.

***

It's a couple days later when Stiles doesn't show up at his usual time. Minutes pass by slowly, the seconds irritatingly emphasized by the ticking of the clock on the back wall. All the usual people leave soon enough, and he still isn't waiting at the bar with rosy cheeks and a stupid smile on his face.

Derek tells himself that he's not concerned. He's a college student, after all; he probably has much better things to do, like study or do homework, instead of eating the yellow cupcake with Buerre Noisette buttercream that he has prepared for him today. He can already hear Stiles complimenting the taste after he bites into it, and the corners of his mouth turn up into a small smile. Not because of the compliments, though. It's because he likes hearing Stiles' voice, the sound that used to kind of irritate him, but now the one he wants to hear the most.

Stiles comes trudging in a half-hour late, and Derek quickly comes out from the kitchen when he hears the ringing of the bell that signals his entrance. A strange feeling of excitement runs through him as he does, but his mouth then drops open in horrified shock when he sees Stiles. The young man gulps, his expression a mixture of shyness and shame.

"It's not as bad as it looks, is it?" he asks quietly, and Derek is at a loss for words.

"Oh, my God," Is all he can manage as his eyes take in the expanse of Stiles' body. He walks out from behind the bar while doing this, and Stiles looks like he wants to shrink into nothing.

Stiles is still in his lacrosse uniform, as usual, but crimson is lacing the usual dirt-and-grass mixture that stains it. A bruise is forming on his jawline, right below a nasty cut that runs diagonally on his right cheek, and it looks like his nose has been bleeding. Dark shadows have also appeared on his forearms, the shapes of them being fingers, and Derek's heart jumps in both fright and fury when he sees those.

"I was gonna go back to my apartment," Stiles says dumbly, shuffling his feet against the floor. "But I didn't know what to do. So...I came here instead."

Derek finally goes over to him, and puts an arm around his waist, instructing that Stiles put one around his shoulders. When Stiles winces at his touch, he knows that there are probably bruises flowering on his torso as well. He has to breathe in and out deeply in order not to let his fury get the best of him. "Alright, there's first-aid in the back room. Let's go."

"Derek, I can walk by myself. My legs aren't broken."

The baker ignores Stiles' weak claims, and helps him walk into the kitchen. "You're lucky Melissa decided to leave early, because she would have been worse than me." He tosses him a grimace that was surely meant to be a smile. "...Just don't bleed on the cakes, okay?" 

Stiles snorts at Derek's attempt to put humor into the situation. "I'll try my hardest not to." He sits down in a chair that Derek pulls into the corner of the kitchen, and waits while he brings out a first-aid kit. He can tell that Derek's tense by the way he slams the plastic box onto a clean counter and how his jaw keeps clenching. "Derek, I'm fine. There's no need to worry."

"Who did this to you?" Derek questions in the calmest voice he can manage at the moment, which is actually not very calm at all and very close to rage, disregarding Stiles' protests as he soaks a cotton ball in alcohol for the cut on his cheek. 

Stiles winces when Derek puts the cotton to the incision, dabbing it gently. He decides to focus on how he smells like chocolate and strawberries and the lemon-y soap that all of the employees wash their hands with. "It was a couple of guys on the team," he finally mutters, casting his eyes to the ground.

" _Your_ team?"

"Yeah," Stiles is reluctant to admit it, his eyes avoiding Derek's. "They kept on yelling at me and saying stuff like that I wouldn't need to worry about getting recruited for the majors if they could break me enough." Derek's eyes start to flame up at this, and Stiles gets worried that he'll do something rash if he doesn't put a stop to it. He puts his hands up as a sign for him to calm down, and Derek slowly backs away so that he can chuck the used cotton ball into the trash can. "But luckily, I got away before they could get that far."

"Did you call the police?" Derek demands, and the sheepish look on Stiles' face is a conclusive answer that doesn't need an explanation. "You _didn't_?"

"Hey, I'm not stupid! I texted Coach saying that he should check security tapes when he gets to school bright and early tomorrow morning. I'm not looking to press charges or anything." He smirks, shrugging. "I figured that them getting kicked off of the team would be punishment enough. They won't be able to play the championship game."

Derek sighs as he washes his hands, the lemon scent of the hand soap filling the air. "If you want me to, I could kick both of their asses. You're lucky that I'm capable of controlling my anger."

"I know that you can already. Otherwise, you probably would have bitten my head off by now," Stiles replies, and Derek's lips twitch. He scans one of the tables of cakes in front of him now that things are serene, and realizes just how intricate the icing designs are on them. "Nah, I don't want you to beat them up. It seems like your hands can do better things than punch a couple of dicks in the face. Those look really freaking good."

"What? Oh, those," Derek walks over to a cake, and squints while adjusting a pink fondant flower that is one of the many attached to the side of it. "Yeah, these are my pride and joy."

"That one looks a bit bare, though," Stiles teases, pointing to a three-tiered one. "Must be one dull celebration."

"That's because I was in the middle of decorating it when you came in all beaten and bloody," Derek mumbles, picking up the bag of frosting ("Swiss meringue buttercream," he tells Stiles, and Stiles salivates) that is attached to a closed star tip. "This is actually a wedding cake, so it's not going to be dull at all. It's going to be roses and pearls and ribbon, and the best damned wedding cake they've ever seen in their lives."

Stiles chuckles. "Are your aspirations aimed too low, Derek?"

"Certainly not."

"Do you need me to leave so that you can fully embrace your baker-ness?"

"No!" Derek replies too quickly, and he bites his bottom lip so hard that it almost breaks the skin. "I mean, um, you can go if you need to. But you don't have to. I'm not stopping you from doing that."

It takes a moment for Stiles to register that this is the first time that he has seen Derek something close to _flustered_. He smiles at how adorable he looks as he focuses on the cake before leaning back in his chair. "Ah, free will, how seldom we get to meet." His eyes sparkle. "I choose to stay here. Maybe you'll need a pep talk or something." _Preferably the something_.

Derek turns to face him, and cocks his head. "It's not often that I have company. Well, it's not like I ever invite someone to stay with me."

Stiles jokingly bats his eyelashes. "What, does that make me special?"

"Some definition of the word," Derek responds, and winks before turning back to his cake. Stiles is glad that he can't see his face because right now, he knows how red it is just from how warm he feels. 

A couple of minutes pass in silence before Derek turns around again, and he's surprised to see Stiles looking at him with a goofy grin on his face the his chin in his hand. Derek hopes he isn't blushing, because Derek Hale _doesn't blush_.

"What?" he asks. The question is supposed to be tinged with irritation, but it awkwardly comes out with actual curiosity instead.

"Just watching you," Stiles tells him in a sing-song voice. "It's fun to see you in your own habitat, working away."

Derek chuckles inaudibly before teasing him. "Well, cut it out, or leave. It's creepy."

"Oh, please," The young man scoots closer to him on top of the counter. "You love me being here. Admit it, Hale! You wouldn't send me away for anything!"

"In your dreams, Stilinski."

But Derek doesn't tell Stiles to leave. In fact, a shocked expression crosses Melissa's face when she sees Stiles' Jeep pull out of the parking lot just as her tires grace the gravel at four in the morning.

***

When the day of the long-awaited lacrosse championship comes around, it hits Stiles in the face, quite literally, in fact; he wakes up that morning and is only a second into a yawn before falling off of his bed and hitting the floor. A groan of pain escapes him, and another one follows quickly when he checks his phone that also took the plunge with him. It's only six o'clock. Normally, he wouldn't be up at such an ungodly hour, but nervous adrenaline is already a tsunami in his system.

Despite his exhaustion, he manages to pull on a t-shirt and shorts, and before he knows it, his tennis-shoe clad feet are hitting the concrete in a run. He doesn't know exactly where he's going and he can't really see either because the sun hasn't completely risen above the horizon, but somewhere in his sleep-deprived mind, he thinks this is the best thing to do right now. Besides, he can't even focus on an exact destination with all of his anxiety just waiting to pour out of him.

That's why he's taken aback when he skids to a stop outside of Melissa's bakery, cursing his subconscious when he realizes where he is. Of course it's already one step ahead of him before he's even alert enough to be pronounced awake.

He starts to turn around, but that's when he sees Derek's flashy black Camaro sitting outside of the shop. His heart rate spikes up at the sight, and he peeks into the window. Joy instantly fills his whole being, because not only can he see a faint shadow from the light of the kitchen, but he can hear Derek whistling a happy tune as well. This just makes him even more shaky, and he realizes that he hadn't known that he was trembling before.

"Oh, screw it," he mumbles to himself, and pushes the door open without a second thought.

Derek is icing a fresh batch of cupcakes when he hears the bell above the door ring, signaling that someone had just walked in. His heart leaps in his chest when he hears the sound, but his hopes are dashed quickly when he reminds himself that Stiles is clearly not the type to be awake this early in the morning. He tries so hard to dismiss his disappointment and become a statue again, but that's not possible considering that it is the thought of that same college student that makes him whistle as he bakes.

Wiping icing from his hands on a hand towel, he strides out from the kitchen and starts his usual greeting. "Welcome to _McCall's Cake Shop_! How may I--" A surprised grin embellishes his face when he sees Stiles sitting at the counter, looking as cheeky and adorable as he always does. There's something off about him, though, and Derek senses it right away. He blushes slightly and walks towards the nervous boy. "I wasn't expecting to see you here this early."

"I--I wasn't either," Stiles gulps and laughs, but the sound is edgy. "Can I get, like, an espresso or something? I'm wide awake, but totally not at the same time."

"I think that that's the last thing you need right now," Derek tells him honestly, and puts a hand on one of Stiles' shaking ones. The contact makes them both flush even more, and neither one of them likes it when Derek pulls his hand away. "Maybe we can start with some ice water?"

Stiles tries to shrug nonchalantly. "Y-Yeah, water's good. Water's... _fine_."

Derek bites his bottom lip to hide his grin at Stiles' anxiousness as he grabs a plastic cup and goes to the fridge. As he picks up the pitcher of water, he starts to assure him. "You're going to do _amazing_ today, you know. ESPN will have no choice but to recruit you."

"You've never even seen me play," Stiles retorts when Derek sets the cup in front of him, and he guzzles the cold water down.

"Um, Stiles? Considering that two of ESPN's representatives are going to be there, you must be a pretty damned good player. But if you're really that concerned, I'll be there to see you play for myself tonight."

Stiles almost spits the water out, but manages to swallow it before coughing a little. "W-What?"

"I'm offended," Derek teases him, his evergreen gaze mischievous as he trains his eyes on Stiles'. "I thought that you'd want me there, but I guess I had the wrong idea!"

" _No_!" Stiles' voice somehow becomes even higher than before, and Derek's booming laughter fills his ears. "I most _definitely_ want you to be there. I'd be nothing without my favorite baker." Derek rolls his eyes at the young man's charmingly cheesy smile at his second statement. "But you...you make me even _more_ nervous, Derek. If I lost the game out there in front of you, I probably wouldn't be able to drag myself out of bed for weeks."

Shocked by Stiles' confession, Derek clears his throat and is quiet for a few moments before he leans against the counter, looking straight into the boy's eyes. They're filled with anxiety and fright and God, does he want to replace them with ardor and light so very badly right this second with just a touch of his lips to his.

"Listen to me, Stiles," Derek tells him gently, and takes Stiles' hand again. He doesn't let go this time when the two of them blush like fools in love. "I spent...an _insane_ amount of time doubting my baking skills before I started making use of them and allowing myself to be happy. You don't have anymore time to do that, because your time is right now. You have to show off all of your talent tonight, and everybody's going to be cheering you on. Your family, your friends, and _me_ \--" His lips turn up into a soft smile, one that Stiles will surely have imprinted in his mind throughout the whole day. "--I know that when the buzzer goes off, no matter what the result is, we're all going to be celebrating _you_."

Stiles is stunned silent for one of the first times in his entire life. He knows that he should be filling the air with grateful words, especially to camouflage how embarrassingly loud his heart is beating, but his mind keeps on coming up blank. "Derek, I-I..."

"Don't go thanking me just yet," Derek suddenly has the most idiotic look on his face, one of satisfaction with eyes that show just how deep Cupid has lodged his arrow into the baker's heart. "I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes."

The playful atmosphere is reinstated with those words and Stiles obliges with a silly smile. "Kinky." Derek guffaws at his unrestrained comment, and his grin grows even wider. "One of these days, I'm going to eat something that you made and it's literally going to be made out of garbage or something."

"I can assure you that that will _never_ be the case!" Derek calls in utter amusement from the kitchen. Stiles becomes even more excited when he hears his footsteps come closer to him, and listens for the familiar _clink_ of a plate being set in front of him. "Alright, you can open them now."

Slowly doing as he was told to do, Stiles finds himself looking at one of the most delectable cupcakes that Derek had ever set in front of him over the past month or so. The cake is golden and slightly swirled with a toffee color, and the icing is a bluish-purple with dark speckles that he has never seen before. He raises his eyebrows and looks back up at Derek, who throws the cloth used to clean the counter over his shoulder before shrugging like this wasn't a big deal. Oh, but to him, it definitely was.

"I just made a batch of these this morning. In fact, I was icing them when you walked through the door. It's yellow cake mixed with a hint of hazelnut. As for the icing, I want you to figure it out."

Stiles warily eyes the cupcake before slowly reaching for it and picking it up, noting the look of anticipation on Derek's face. He gives himself the satisfaction of winking at him before biting into it and allowing the flavors to mingle in his mouth. The cake flavors, of course, he can recognize and enjoy instantly; the icing, even though delicious, is what he can't. It's certainly floral, but obviously not the rose icing that Derek had introduced to him to when he had met with him for the second time. But a few seconds of chewing later, he finally remembers a question that the baker had asked of him, when he had just realized that he had fallen for the bastard.

"Violets," Stiles breathes, and his jaw drops. Derek nods smugly, definitely feeling proud of himself. "Really?!"

"That day, I knew that I wanted to bake something new for you. Something that you'd like of course, but also something strange and out-of-the-ordinary..." Derek chuckles. "...just like you."

"I'm going to take that as a complete compliment, because _Christ_ , this is freaking _celestial_! If your goal was to kill me before my championship game, then you might succeed! Like, have you even tasted it yourself?" Derek doesn't answer, and a Stiles' jaw practically becomes unhinged this time. "Aren't you the one who told me that a genius should be able to enjoy his own work every once in a while?"

Derek leans closer to him, and Stiles doesn't know what to make of his expression. "Oh, I certainly plan on doing just that."

And then Derek's hand is on Stiles' cheek and Stiles doesn't have time to think before their mouths come into contact, but all he is aware of right now is _Derek Derek Derek_. The kiss tastes of violet and vanilla-flavored coffee and all he wants is more. He grabs onto Derek's shirt collar, and earns a surprised but pleased chuckle from the man that had stolen his heart from the very moment he had walked in through the door of the bakery. He can't hold back the disappointed noise he makes when Derek pulls away slightly and melts at his smolder.

"It looks like I should start taking my own advice more often," Derek whispers, and leans forward again so he can lick away some of the purple icing that had been left at the corner of Stiles' mouth.

"I agree," Stiles tells him, grip on his collar tightening. "So you should totally kiss me again."

"Impatient," The baker comments, but gives him a grin. "But I can deal with that."

Their lips are about to touch again when Melissa suddenly walks through the door, the list of numerous things that have to be done today invading her head disappearing when she sees the scene that she had just intruded on. Upon seeing the boys' bashful expressions, Stiles looking down at his shoes and Derek at the counter, she squeals in excitement.

"I just _knew_ that there was something going on with you two!" She runs over and hugs the both of them, making them even more embarrassed. "It was only a matter of time. I'm just so happy for you!" A happy sigh leaves her mouth, but then she puts on a mature adult face before turning to Stiles. "Young man, I know that you have a championship game tonight, but aren't you forgetting that you have to go somewhere today?"

"Wh-What?" Stiles is still dazed from the kiss that he and Derek had just shared, but he suddenly snaps out of it and jumps from his stool. "Oh, crap, _school_! I still have to run back and get my stuff!"

Melissa nods in approval. "And you'd better run fast, too. I cannot _wait_ to see you win tonight, and I wouldn't want you being benched because you cut class."

Stiles scoffs. "Please, they wouldn't bench me for anything that would happen today." He turned back to Derek, who was grinning at his newfound confidence. "And you're going to be there too, right?" He already knows the answer, but he wants to be assured just once more.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Derek confirms, and steals one more kiss off of Stiles' lips as Melissa looks on with joy. "Now _go_!"

Stiles yells out an "I'll see you guys later!" before rushing out the door, leaving Melissa and Derek chuckling as they watch him sprint past the window. Derek hums to himself as he clears Stiles' plate and starts to wipe down the counter, but he can't ignore Melissa's expectant gaze for long.

"You know how you asked me if Stiles was charming the very first time I met him?" he asks, and Melissa nods.

"I do," she replies with a smile, and waits for him to elaborate.

Derek lets out a blissful sigh. His grin is stretched from ear to ear, highlighting the pink shade that his cheeks now hold. "He's _definitely_ beyond that."

***

The final buzzer for the game goes off, and abruptly everything is the roar of Stiles' teammates as they run out onto the field and him being lifted up off of the ground and into the air and grass stains that symbolize what he has just helped his team win. But Stiles is only looking for one person when he rips off his helmet and throws up his arms in victory.

It's at least ten minutes before he finds that person, his "thank you"'s in response to the congratulations that he is given only half-hearted. Then, the screams of the crowd melt away into barely nothing as Stiles trains his eyes on _him_. _Him_ being the person that allows him to act like a moron and calls him out on it with a gorgeous smile. The one that opens up to him like he hasn't to anyone before, able to show every single one of his emotions in his forest-like eyes and allow Stiles to do the same. The one that Stiles has made a home for in his heart, planning for him to stay for more than a while.

" _Derek_!" Stiles yells. He runs a bit too fast towards him, and Derek is lucky that he's able to regain his balance when the carefree young man plows into him before they both fall into the dirt. Stiles breathes in his chocolate-covered strawberry scent before shouting, "We _won_!"

"I know. I was here the whole time," Derek responds in amusement, and catches Stiles' cheek so that he can rob a kiss off of it. "And I must say, I'm shocked. I thought your ego had just gone to your head!"

Stiles scoffed. "Please. Says the one who was all like, 'You _must_ be good 'cause those ESPN people are going to be there'!"

Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles' impersonation of him. "You know that I was joking, and that you're a magnificent lacrosse player. I bow down to you."

"I know," Stiles chirps, and averts his eyes to the side of a second before returning them back to Derek's. There's a bit of uneasiness in them, and the baker's heart sinks. "And speaking of those ESPN people, I also know that you saw me talking to them earlier.

"Y-Yeah," The verification leaves Derek's mouth unsteadily, and there's a lump in his throat that he just can't swallow away. "I did. If you don't mind me asking...what did you tell them?"

Stiles looks like he's about to say something, but he closes his mouth at the very last moment. Derek becomes confused at this, and the last thing he registers is the boy that he grew to care for so much standing on his tiptoes before pressing his lips to his. The kiss consists of everything that Stiles was about to put into words: he chose passion over fame. He wants to still be able to play with the team that he loves and the one that loves him for who he is. Tomorrow and for years to come, he wants to walk into the bakery each afternoon and share buttercream kisses with Derek until Melissa gets sick of them (she never will, though, and they both know it). He wants to stay in the town whose streets he would know blindfolded, the ones that will always lead him back to the one who holds his heart in his hands, no matter which direction he goes in.

"I'm staying," he murmurs against Derek's lips, just in case he hadn't just gotten the point across.

Derek breaks the kiss gently, green eyes twinkling in the stadium lights. "I know."

Their fingers lace perfectly together, and the both of them turn to face the crowd. All attention is on them and they walk into the chaos with an air of calm, having found safety in knowing that everything would be alright as long as their hearts belonged to one another.

 

They don't let go.


End file.
